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Wednesday, April 18, 2018

My Brother’s Keeper - 11

Roy and Jerry raced down the
almost deserted street. Behind them the sound of footsteps from their pursuers
echoed off the walls of the buildings.

“Almost…there…” Roy managed to gasp out
as he grabbed his brother’s arm to help him keep up. Or pull him along. He
wasn’t sure which but it didn’t matter as long as it got them both to their
destination before Daws and his gang caught up with them.

The light at the crossing
turned yellow. They ignored it, dashing pell-mell across the street. Horns
honked angrily but they made it without being hit. Roy shoved open the door to the bus station.
Seconds later they both collapsed on one of the benches, heedless of the stares
from the people in the waiting room.

Roy glanced back the way they’d come to see Daws glaring
at him through the plate-glass window. He was almost tempted to flip him off
but decided there no reason to add more fuel to the fire.

Jerry started to cough and Roy quickly dug the cough
syrup out of his backpack.

“Next time, we hide better,”
Jerry grumbled once he’d taken a big swing from the almost empty bottle.

“Definitely,” Roy agreed as he checked
to see if Daws was still standing outside. Not seeing him, although he knew
that didn’t mean anything, he turned back. As he did he saw a kid he knew from
the streets huddled on one of the benches across the room talking to a young
man. The kid said something and the young man turned his head. A smile lit his
face and he started towards Roy and Jerry.

“Now what,” Roy muttered with a sigh as he tensed, ready
to defend himself and his brother if necessary.

“I’ve been looking all over
hell and gone for you two,” the young man said as he stopped a few feet away.
“My name’s Tad and I’d like to talk to you, if you don’t mind.”

“Doing some research
project,” Roy
asked while he looked Tad over with a jaundiced eye. “Whoever dressed you did a
piss poor job of it. You match.”

Tad looked down at what he
was wearing. As far as he was concerned his clothes looked ratty enough. Then
he caught what the young man meant. “Yeah, guess I do, compared to you anyway.
Who’s your tailor?”

Roy frowned, and then chuckled. “Good one. Okay, why do
you want to talk to us?”

“Not for research, or some
newspaper article. May I?” Tad nodded to the vacant seat next to Roy.

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About Me

Born and bred Cleveland, I earned a degree in technical theater, later switched to costuming, and headed to NYC. Finally seeing the futility of trying to become rich and famous in the Big Apple, I joined VISTA (Volunteers in Service to America), ending up in Chicago for three years. Then it was on to Denver where I put down roots and worked as a costume designer until just recently.
I began writing five years ago after joining an on-line fanfic group. Two friends and I then started a group for writers where they may post any story they wish no matter the genre or content. Since then, for the last two years, I’ve been writing for publication. Most, but not all, of my work is m/m, either mildly erotic or purely ‘romantic’, and more often than not it involves a mystery or covert operations.